Just a Dream
by DeathMunchkin
Summary: "Cold. Everything around him was so cold. He couldn't see, couldn't smell or hear anything." Spencer has a vivid nightmare and wakes up feeling horrible. With a throbbing migraine and a severe nosebleed, one of the team offers him support. No intentional pairings. Reid centric. Now a multi chapter! Reviews make my day.(may take a while to update again, sorry)
1. The Dream

**Warning!: This fic contains mentions of blood, nausea, death and possibly light mentions of torture. If you are uncomfortable with any of these topics, do not read!**

 **The fic is set shortly after Rossi joins the team, thus I guess it could be considered slight A.U. since Spencer's headaches started earlier.**

 **The fic is not slash, but I guess you could read it as "paired" if you want to, though none of the characters will be purposefully paired.**

~oooo, o, o0oo, o0oo, 000 ~

Cold. Everything around him was so cold. He couldn't see, couldn't smell or hear anything. Nothing except darkness and the constant, painful throbbing from the left side of his head. Everything else was empty, quiet and cold. So very cold.

Reid's mind was clouded in a milky fog. Everything was twisted and blurred beyond recognition. Nothing seemed to work properly. His mind was idle and clumsy, falling around the different thoughts which were swimming around in his head. His body didn't seem to respond when he tried to move. Even time wasn't following its own conventional laws anymore. It was all so strange, such an alien concept. It felt as though the world had suddenly stopped, leaving nothing but emptiness and confusion.

Eventually he was able to grasp a single line of thought. Open your eyes. It somehow stood out from the rest of the incoherent mess which was echoing off the insides of his skull. Something about it was important. Over and over again the thought sounded in his head. Open your eyes. Open them.

He tried to obey, tried to force them open. But it was harder than he expected. His eyelids felt like they had been glued shut and it took a surprising amount of energy to open them even slightly. Through narrow cracks his chestnut brown eyes peered out at the world around him. Much like his mind his surroundings were cloaked in a thick fog. He tried to make sense of what was happening around him as the milky cloud and the darkness constantly shifted and melded together.

The fog seemed to loom over his body, reaching out towards him with long, wispy fingers. He realized that he had been laying on his stomach this whole time. The ground felt hard and very cold where it pressed against his cheek. Slowly his mind started to catch up. Within the sea of confusion more and more urgent thoughts began to surface. Where was he? What happened? Where was his team? These rang out loud enough for him to take notice. He tried to hold on to them, hoping that they would keep him grounded.

Deciding that the best way to begin the search for answers would be getting up, Spencer slowly moved his hands to where he can push himself into a sitting position. The process was already proving difficult however since his arms felt like they were made of lead. Even the smallest of movements seemed to take ten times the amount of energy it was supposed to.

With what felt like a great deal of effort he lifted himself up. It was only once he was sitting that he noticed another colour in the scene around him aside from the darkness and the white of the fog. There was red. Dark crimson liquid stained the ground around him. The sticky, half dried substance covered his hands, his arms, it had even seeped into the fabric of his shirt and his brown cardigan.

Blood. So much blood. Who's was it? Was it his? It couldn't have all been his, there was way too much. No one could live after losing this much blood. No, at least some of it had to belong to someone else. His hand traveled up to his left temple, toward the source of the painful throbbing. He silently winched as his fingers came into contact with a gash which was still fresh and sensitive to the touch. A thick stream of blood flowed down the side of his head, covering his left ear and glueing his hair to his skin.

Something about this situation felt all too familiar. Fear started to well up in his chest as he stared at the fresh red liquid that covered the tips of his fingers. Something was wrong. Very wrong. The thing that scared him the most was that his mind wasn't working properly. He closed his eyes, hoping that this would help the confusion pass more quickly, but his thoughts were still jumbled up and following a single line of thinking was proving to be difficult.

Opening his eyes again he noticed that the fog had began to pull back. Several dark silhouettes started to form within its cloudy white cover. Most were just unidentifiable shapes and shadows which were spread across the ground, all except for one. A small spark of hope showed in his eyes as he realized that one of the figures looked somewhat like a person. As the fog continued to slowly clear up, the silhouette appeared increasingly like the figure of a man.

"Hello?" Reid called out, realizing that this was the first time he had spoken since he found himself in this situation. His voice sounded weak and almost as if it echoed back and forth around him against non existent walls. His voice must have been enough to gain the man's attention because he moved, like he was turning around to face him.

"Morgan? Is that you?" Reid hoped beyond all other hopes that the figure was indeed his best friend. Morgan would know what was happening. He would know what to do. If nothing else Reid wished for the man he considered his brother to be there with him now.

"He's dead." The figure spoke with a tone which sounded too much like disgussed as it started walking towards the young profiler. His voice was all too familiar, so much so that even with his mind still messy and this thoughts blurred Reid could nearly instantly recognise it. "The other are too. All of your sinful friends are dead."

"Charles?" Reid swallowed as the small spark of hope he had was instantly extinguished, leaving dread and panic to take it's place. He could feel his heart leap against his chest, his breathing speeding up as well. Instinctively he tried to move back and away from the man who was coming ever closer, but his body still felt heavy and weak. The best he could manage was to lean away slightly.

Once he realized who the man was all the pieces in his mind began to fall into place. His clothes, his head injury, it was the same. It was exactly the same as that day. Only back then there was much less blood. With his mind cleared up his surroundings soon followed suit. The fog lifted enough to clearly reveal all the figures which were still silhouettes mere seconds earlier. The man who he had been talking to was, without a doubt, Charles Hankel. Or at least it was Charles's personality in charge of Tobias's body. The young man stood in front of him, only a few feet away. His entire expression was twisted to reflect pure hatred, a look which Spencer doubted the real Tobias would've ever worn.

The others which were previously mere shapes and shadows that he couldn't identify were now clearly the rest of his team. They were all there. Morgan. Jay-Jay. Rossi. Everybody. And they were all lying motionlessly in their own pool of blood.

Tears started pricking his eyes as he looked from one member of his family to the next. He couldn't speak, couldn't breath. This couldn't be happening, none of this could be happening. Not to them. Not like this.

"Morgan?" He called out again as his eyes came to a stop on his friend. This time his voice was barely over a whisper. The older profiler was lying closest to him. His face, which Reid knew could hold the brightest smile he has ever seen, was now dreadfully expressionless. The man was so close, if Reid could only move slightly towards him he was sure he would be able to reach him. He shook his head, trying to discard the images from his memories. But it was already too late. They were forever seared into his mind. The curse of having an eidetic memory.

"Look at me, boy!" Charles demanded, his voice booming and filled with unspoken threats. Reid instantly did as he was told, remembering clearly the consequences of disobeying this particular personality. The man stepped closer to him, close enough that if he reached out just a bit he would be able to touch his shoes. He towered over him. Everything about him screamed dominance and intimidation. "They deserved it. They were agents of the devil. The world needed to be purified of their hell-bound souls." He practically spat the words.

"They weren't sinners. They were people. Good hearted people." His voice was feeble and broken, a clear reflection of his will. The tears were flowing freely down his face now, leaving two clear lines where the blood and dirt was washed away. Sobs shook through him and fear caused his entire body to shiver. There was nothing left for him now. His entire life was meaningless. Without them, without the only real family he had ever had, he was nothing. "They were good people."

"Be quiet!" Without a second of hesitation Charles hit Reid hard in the face, causing the young profiler to land to his side, sprawled out on the ground. He didn't even show a hint of remorse as he watched Reid curl slightly into himself, trying to shield himself from the pain and possibility of being hit again. "I didn't say you could talk."

While his cheek burned with fresh flames of pain Reid could feel his heart aching in his chest. Few people knew that emotional pain could truly be felt at a physical level. But even if he wasn't aware of this fact he would never have described the feeling as anything less than real. It was the worst pain he had ever felt. All the fear and despair he had experienced throughout his entire life was nothing compared to the pain of losing his team.

"They were sinners, just like you. And like them, you deserve to die." Without taking his eyes off of Reid, Charles took a revolver out from behind his back. It's exterior seemed to gleam in the dim light of their surroundings. Giving the cylinder a light spin he pointed it directly at Reid's head. "I made sure that it's fully loaded this time. No way you can get away. Not even the devil himself can escape a bullet."

Reid didn't do anything to stop him. What was there he could do? He already knew Charles wouldn't listen to reason. And even if there was a chance, what would be the point? His life was already over. There was no need for him to fight back. No point to even try.

Instead he shifted his body so that he could look at Morgan. Despite all the blood he actually looked quite peaceful. As Spencer listened to the sound of Charles pulling back the gun's hammer he reached out as far as he could towards his friend until his hand was resting on his shoulder. If he was going to die, he wanted it to be close to his team. He wished he wasn't alone. In that moment he wished someone was still alive and was there with him. Because despite being open about his fear of the dark, his single greatest fear was to die alone.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't here. I couldn't stop him. I'm sorry." One last tear fell down his face. A tear made of fear, sorrow and guilt. And as it dripped to the ground, a loud explosion echoed within the fog.

~ 0o0o, o0, 0o ~ 0o00, 000, oo0 ~ ooo, o, o, ~ 00, o ~

It was about one in the morning when something started pulling Aaron from his sleep. Not that the disturbance was necessarily a great one, but having been an agent for many years now he had grown quite sensitive to noticing when something was out of place, even if he wasn't awake. So once his subconscious recognized that something about his surrounding had changed he soon regained full awareness.

At first he couldn't pinpoint the source of his untimely awakening. Things seemed relatively normal. He was still in bed. Not his bed per se, since they were on a case at the time, but still the same bed he had fallen asleep in earlier. There weren't any signature noises of an unwanted intruder in the room either. There weren't any footsteps, no sounds of someone messing with the doorlock or searching through any of their stuff. The only noises which could be heard were the songs of crickets outside, his own light breathing and… Sobs?

Was someone crying?

Having recognized exactly what it was that had woken him, Hoch sat up in his bed and took a quick look around the room. What had seemed dark when he had fallen asleep earlier looked surprisingly different now that his eyes were adjusted to the lack of light. The door to the room was still closed, which was good, and everything else was still in the same place they had left it before bed. Their go-bags were still on the kitchen table and there were no signs that anything had been disturbed. Now sure that everything else was in its place, Hoch turned his attention toward the only other person in the room.

The town they were in for this particular case was rather small and hotels were few and far between. The one closest to the police station had no single person rooms to offer them, so they had no choice but to share rooms for a few days. It's happened before, so the idea wasn't a new one. Usually in situations like these Hotch would have shared a room with Rossi, but this particular time around he had landed with…

"Reid?" Quietly he called the younger agent's name, more to confirm whether or not he was awake than anything else. After a while had passed with no reply from the other agent he pulled the covers off his legs and slid out of bed. He turned on the bedside lamp on his way over to the young man's bed.

The first thing Hotch noticed was that he was curled up in the fetal position. His shoulders shook to the rhythm of the sobs which sounded clearly in the small room. Though Aaron couldn't see much of his face, he could make out the glimmering lines of tear tracks down his cheeks. With his concern for the youngest team member steadily growing he carefully placed his hand on his arm.

"Reid. Reid wake up." He spoke louder this time, but he made sure to keep his voice as gentle as possible as he lightly shook his arm.

"Hotch!" Reid suddenly startled awake, the motion and Hotch's voice being enough to finally pull him from his restless sleep. Within an instant he was sitting upright. At first his eyes were wide with panic, instinctively wanting to dart across the room as his mind took a moment to determine exactly where he was and what was happening. But once the light in the room hit his eyes it sent terrible shocks of pain going off in his head, as if the part of his brain right behind them was being aggressively impaled with several long needles. Unintentionally he allowed a small scream to escape his lips as he instantly squeezed his eyes shut again. He covered one of his eyes with his hand, the other lightly reaching out to Hotch, who still held his arm.

"Hey. Reid are you alright?" Though the unit chief tried to keep his tone as calm and steady as possible it was still clear that he was worried to anyone who had known him long enough. More so now that he was able to get a more thorough look at the other man.

Even to someone who wasn't a trained profiler it would be obvious that the kid was having a headache. Going by his reaction to light it was probably a bad one too. His forehead was beaded with sweat and he shivered fiercely. But the thing that bothered Hotch the most was the blood. At some point during the night Reid must have developed a nosebleed because there was a line of blood running over his lips and dripping onto his nightshirt as well as the bed covers. Another, older path was still visible from where it had previously flowed over his cheek whilst he was still laying on his side, resulting in his pillow and parts of his face to be stained with it.

"Hotch?" Reid sounded relieved, as if he wasn't completely sure of his presence before. A small smile flashed across his face for a fraction of a second before it was once again replaced by a pained look. " 't hurts." Reid replied with a quiet whimper. Realizing that the bedside lamp must be quite a bit brighter to him than he expected, Hotch quickly switched it off.

Spencer visibly relaxed as darkness once again enveloped the room and the blinding pain was lessened to a severe throb rather a constant stabbing. Finally daring to reopen his eyes he was met with the coffee brown ones of their team leader who was kneeling slightly in order to be at the same height as him. The only reason why they were able to see in the dark at all was that the room was illuminated by the dim light which seeped through the thin curtains from outside.

Realizing where he was and what had happened he quickly wiped his hand over his face, embarrassed about having been caught crying in his sleep and wanting to remove any evidence of tears as soon as possible. Seeing his hand come back with a fresh smear of dark red across it send cold shivers running down his spine. Blood. How could there be more blood? Frantically the inspected the side of his head with his fingers, searching for the raw, bleeding gash. It wasn't there.

Looking down he was able to make out the splotches of dark on his light coloured nightshirt and the bed covers. The number of spots were steadily increasing as the crimson liquid continued to drip onto the fabric, falling from somewhere. He tasted the coppery tang on his lips and noticed the warmth trickling down his chin. Touching his upper lip his fingertips were painted red. A nosebleed?

"Reid look at me." He bounced slightly as he was suddenly reminded of the other man's presence. Silently he scolded himself for forgetting about his surroundings. He turned to look at Hotch again, noticing that he was gently holding the wrist of the hand Reid had used to reach out to him earlier.

"Are you alright?" He asked again, hoping to get a clearer answer this time. Hotch spoke in a tone of voice which he usually saved solely for Jack. It was both soft and surprisingly comforting, something which they rarely heared from the team leader. But at the moment he was concerned, and considering the situation he had decided it best to use kid gloves while dealing with the team's resident genius.

"Yeah. Um, I - I think so." He answered after a while. It wasn't entirely a lie. He was conscious, which was okay enough he guessed. He was basically as alright as anybody could be if they had a throbbing headache and severe nosebleed. But he was already ashamed enough as it is. No need to pull others into his problems.

Hotch eyed him closely, watching for any signs of discomfort. He already knew Reid would sugarcoat his own problems, the question was how much. "Okay." Since Reid seemed more relaxed Hotch decided to accept the answer for now, though he still wasn't sure whether or not to trust that it was truthful.

"You should get cleaned up." Hotch lightly ordered as he stood up next to him. Reid didn't want to admit it, but he felt somewhat dazed. Looking up at the other man it took a while for his mind to fully register his words and for him to reply with a slight nod. The fact that his thoughts were still sluggish truly scared him. Why couldn't he think straight? Why did his head hurt so much? So many thoughts, questions, bouncing around in his head.

"I'll see if I can find a towel or something to help stop the flow." Hotch offered as Reid slid out of bed. He was just about to step away from him when he saw the way the younger man swayed on his feet and the near faint look in his eyes. He thanked his years of training and experience as an agent for his quick reactions as he caught the kid split seconds before he fell over, resulting in him holding him up in an awkward, hug like hold. Feeling a small spark of panic light in his chest he repeatedly called for Reid's attention and told him to stay awake. Thankfully the dizzy spell passed soon enough.

"You still here?" Hotch questioned as Reid started to show signs of coherence again. Regaining control of his body Spencer pulled away from the team leader, stubbornly wanting to refuse the support offered to him.

"Yeah, 'm okay." Despite the fact that the team's resident genius was extremely independent and had an arguably "bad" habit of insisting on dealing with things himself, Hotch decided that now wasn't the time to let the kid have his way. The fact that his speech was slightly slurred and he still wobbled quite a bit sealed it. Taking Reid's arm Hotch placed it around his neck, wrapping his own arm around Reid's back to offer him as much support as possible.

Whether Reid was still light headed or he was simply too embarrassed to speak was unclear, but the young man only offered quiet mumbles of protest as they slowly made the rest of the way to the small hotel bathroom. Luckily the bathroom had its own window, allowing enough light into the room for them to see quite well where everything was. Once there Hotch quickly grabbed a nearby washcloth and handed it to Reid who idelly used it to roughly clean his face before pinching his still bleeding nose shut with it.

"'m sorry." Reid apologized as he leaned with his arm against the bathroom sink.

"Sorry for what?"

"Your shirt." He gestured toward the splotch or red on Hotch's clothing where some of Reid's blood had transmitted onto the shoulder of his shirt. It must have happened when he fainted. It made sense since the stain was right around where Spencer's head was at the time.

"Its nothing Reid. Besides, yours looks a lot worse than mine." Hotch said in a reassuring tone, trying not to give Reid anything he could blame himself for, knowing how prone he was to feel guilty over the smallest things. Studying the younger man as properly as he could in the blue shaded darkness Hotch sighed internally as he realized they would both need a change of clothing.

"Wait here, I'll be right back." He hesitantly excused himself, leaving Reid to lean against the bathroom sink on his own for a short while. Moving quickly he retrieved two random clean shirts, one from each of their go-bags, before returning to the bathroom.

When he came back it was clear as daylight that the kid was exhausted. His eyes were half shut and he looked like he could pass out any second. Realizing that there was probably no way the younger agent would be able to change his shirt without somehow hurting himself, Hotch figured it would be best if he assisted.

"Let me help." He offered as he placed the clean shirts on the closed toilet seat and reached out to help steady Reid as he stopped leaning against the sink. Stubbornly the young profiler pushed his hands away.

"I can do it myself." He insisted despite the fact that it felt like the world was slowly spinning around him and though the lack of light had decreased the severity of his headache it was also making it hard to see.

"Reid, you're tired, you have a headache and you practically fainted less than ten minutes ago. I'm not going to risk you hurting yourself just to save you some embarrassment."

Hotch must have finally gotten to him because Reid stopped trying to win the argument and after that he simply cooperated, no longer having the energy to complain. Hotch got the feeling that he wanted nothing more than to just get it all over with so that he could go back to bed. And he couldn't blame him.

The process of getting Reid's shirt off was rather awkward since his movements were clumsy and despite being the shorter of the two it was only by a slight amount and he was still considerably tall, making it somewhat difficult for the older agent to help him get the shirt over his head. Once it was successfully removed Hotch bundled it up and tossed it to the side. They could always deal with cleaning it up in the morning.

"Hotch." With his upper torso now completely exposed Reid noticed for the first time how cool the night air was. It sent new shivers down his spine and combined with his lightheadedness caused his stomach to twist and turn uncomfortably.

"What? What is it?" Hotch's concen rose again when he recognised the slightly panicked tone in his agent's voice. He readied himself to support him again should he pass out a second time

"I don't feel good."

Nothing else needed to be said as Hotch instantly realized what was happening. Without a second's hesitation he cleared the clean clothing off the toilet, opened the lid and guided Reid into a kneeling position over it just in time for the kid to empty out his stomach in the porcelain bowl. The shocks that ran through Reid's body caused his headache to flare up, making it so bad it was enough to again form tears in his eyes. Seconds turned to minutes as the agonising process continued. Eventually, after what had felt like hours, his sickness was reduced to dry heaves, few and far between.

"Do you think you can stand?" Hotch asked when at some point it finally seemed to stop. He was crouching beside the sick agent, wanting to be as close as possible incase something happened. Reid merely gave a small nod in response, winching when the motion aggravated the pain behind his eyes. Working as carefully as possible the two rose, though at this point it was more like Hotch was picking Reid up. Thankfully by now his nosebleed had stopped, the blood having finally clotted.

While Reid washed out his mouth in the sink, Hotch grabbed Reid's clean shirt. Using a few techniques he had learned from the countless number of times he had to dress a sleepy Jack, Hotch eventually managed to get Spencer into it. They didn't even bother to pick up the now bloody washcloth from the floor where it had ended up during Reid's nausea wave. Instead they simply made their way back to the bedroom.

"Do you want me to take you to the hospital?" Hotch asked as he practically carried Reid to bed. It was both surprising and worrying how little he weighed under Hotch's supporting arm. He felt sure that even if he really did have to carry him, the lanky built profiler wouldn't be much of a challenge to pick up.

"No, 'm tired. J'st want to sleep." Reid mumbled as he gratefully crawled back under his covers. The patches of red which still stained his pillow and bed didn't bother him much, he didn't have enough energy to be bothered even if he wanted to. If it wasn't for the way the mattress slightly dipped down with a newly applied pressure he wouldn't even have noticed Hotch sitting down on the side of the bed.

"You know we are going to have to talk about this." Hotch informed him, watching him closely as he seemed to relax in the comfort and warmth of the covers. He knew that Reid would want to forget all about this by morning and go on pretending it never happened, but this wasn't something he could just ignore.

"Y's."

"We'll discuss it tomorrow. Get some sleep. You can stay in late if you'd like, we should be able to handle things on our own for a while." Hotch suggested as he stood up and soon disappeared back into the bathroom, presumably to change into a clean shirt himself.

"'k" Was Reid's only response. Unable to fight off the exhaustion any longer he gratefully allowed the cool, quiet realms of sleep to numb his pain and pull him away from the world around him.

~ oo, 00 ~ o0o, oo, 00o, oooo, 0 ~ oooo, o, o0o, o ~

 **The following is an author's note.**

 **So you really read all the way to this point? Wow, I'm flattered, really. Thank you for taking the time ^_^. This will either be a one-shot that ends here, or if you people really want me to continue it I'll make it a multi chapter fic. You're choice.**

 **So, you know the deal. If you want you can leave your thoughts in a review. The good. The bad. Those messy little sticky bits in between which you don't know whether to love or hate. Feel free to tell me exactly what you think, no sugar-coating. Also if you want you can guess what's wrong with Spencer. And if you don't want to review, that's cool as well. Anycase, thanks again for reading. Have a good day/night.**

 **Munchkin out! *poof***


	2. Fever

Steadily the room was bathed in the dimmed orange light of the morning sun as it rose above the horizon and drifted inside, softened only slightly by the thin bedroom curtains. It's warmth seeped into the air, making everything just the right temperature to be comfortable. Unfortunately everything in life can only be enjoyed for so long and in this case Hotch was soon forced to wake up by several loud knocks on the hotel room door. The sudden noise hammered through the room, pulling him from his sleep with a yerk and causing his mind to practically skip the hypnagogic state completely. Feeling unusually tired he ran a hand over his face. He hadn't slept well these past few hours at all, his mind much too distracted by the knowledge that one of his team had fallen ill.

"Hotch? Are you still in there?" Rossi's voice called from the other side of the door, giving identity to the person responsible for the former noise. Aaron stifled a yawn as he pulled himself out of bed, quickly stretching his muscles before making his way over to answer the door.

"Woah, what's up with you?" The elder Italian profiler asked, crooking an eyebrow in surprise at the unit chief's appearance once the door was open enough for him to get a proper look at the other man. Where Rossi was already fully dressed in his usual attire of a dark-blue shirt, his beloved black jacket with matching pants and stylish leather shoes, Hotch on the other hand looked a mess in his sleepwear and with his hair uncombed. "I thought we were sharing a ride, you're not ready yet?"

Hotch's eyes widened slightly as realization hit. If Rossi was here waiting for them to take one of the SUV's to work then it must have been around seven. He hadn't thought it would be so late already. He glanced over his shoulder at his phone on the bedside table. For some reason the alarm hadn't gone off when it was supposed to. Darn.

"Sorry." He apologised. As he rubbed some of the sleep from his eyes his mind ran a list of things that needed to be done before he could leave for work and he sighed internally. The day hadn't started well. "I must have overslept."

"Is everything alright?" With a small frown Rossi studied the other man closely, taking in every detail of his unusual appearance. It wasn't like the workaholic agent to be anything less than early for their job, let alone for him to oversleep. Something was out of place, the only question was what exactly it was.

"Well, Reid got sick last night." Hotch filled him in, opening the door further and stepping aside, wordlessly inviting Rossi to enter the room. The conversation didn't have to take place in the hallway after all. "I just didn't sleep well."

"Is he okay?" His voice held a touch of concern as Rossi stepped past Hotch and into the hotel room the two younger agents were sharing.

"I'm not sure." Hotch admitted, glancing at the young genius who was still curled up under the warm covers of his bed. The kid hadn't so much as twitched at the noise of Rossi's arrival, completely undisturbed. "I haven't checked on him yet."

"I tell you what, how 'bout you go do that now while I fix us all some coffee. You look like you need it." Rossi offered with a smile, giving Hotch a light pat on the shoulder. Hopefully the warm beverage would be enough to make up for his apparent lack of rest, though Rossi doubted that it would.

"Thanks." Hotch smiled back. He was grateful that he wasn't pressured to be ready for work by the other agent. If his alarm had gone off when it was supposed to he would have been done by now for sure, but it felt good to know people understood when things didn't go quite as planned. Besides, he was confident that the others would be able to manage things even if they were a little late, they were all skilled agents.

"Don't mention it." With that Rossi turned away and headed toward the kitchen area to brew the promised drinks. Along the way he couldn't help but notice what appeared to be a bundle of bloodied clothing that had been discarded in the small hotel dustbin, but decided to pay it little mind aside from a briefly raised eyebrow. Hotch meanwhile made his way over to Reid's bed for what was technically the second time that morning. The team's youngest member was hardly visible at all, having somehow wrapped himself in his bed covers to such an extent that everything below his ears was completely hidden.

"Reid. I need you to wake up for a few minutes, okay?" Hotch spoke quietly. Leaning slightly over the younger profiler's bed he gently shook his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, Reid responded by moaning opposingly and sliding further underneath the covers. Needless to say he wasn't exactly looking forward to facing the day.

"Come on. It won't be long." Hotch reassured him. He couldn't help thinking how much this reminded him of all the times Jack got sick. "I just need to know how you're doing."

" 'm tired." Reid mumbled quietly as his sleep fogged mind was pulled far enough into the world of the woken for him to form a sentence, albeit short. His voice was half muffled by the soft duvet cocooned around him.

"I know, I'm sorry. Do you still have a headache?" Reid nodded, moving even deeper under the duvet until his eyes were covered as well. To say he still had a headache was a great understatement. Honestly it had only gotten worse since earlier. The stabbing behind his eyes now felt like his entire head was being slowly crushed, or shredded, possibly both. A constant, agonizing beat went off in his skull. Da-dum! Da-dum! Da-dum! Da-dum! Like a canon going off, over and over and over again, each time setting off a pulse of pain. Never before had he wished blood flow was a silent process, now however the idea seemed like bliss. Every single sound he heard echoed, bouncing around in his head. And the cold was just making it worse. He shivered as he pulled the covers tighter around him, trying to keep as much warmth as possible from escaping into the freezing air.

"Reid?" A small frown of confusion furrowed Hoch's brow as he watched his agent's unusual behavior. When the kid was this quiet in a conversation it was never a good sign. The Reid he knew would have at least tried to conceal the level of his own discomfort. Without bothering to ask any further questions he reached out and placed his hand on the kid's forehead, which was only just sticking out beneath the covers. Spencer instantly flinched away from what he felt to be an icy cold touch.

"This isn't good." Hotch remarked, his voice sounding increasingly concerned. The younger profiler's skin felt like it was on fire against the palm of his hand, far above what could be considered a healthy temperature. He wondered how long Spencer's been like this. Did he already have the fever earlier? No, surely Hotch would have noticed . So it must have developed recently, within the last few hours at most. The rate at which the fever had developed worried him especially.

"What's wrong?" Rossi questioned from where he stood in the kitchen, still within earshot of the other profilers. While brewing the coffee he had been silently observing the interaction between the two. Hearing the touch of a distraught tone in the unit chief's voice had caught his attention. He might not have known the team as long as the others, but he knew enough to be sure it was unusual for the team leader to sound troubled.

"Reid's burning up." Hotch called over his shoulder, his eyes never really leaving the young profiler. The fever looked to be a bad one too, going by Spencer's reaction to Hotch's touch and how he shivered despite being wrapped tightly in the thick duvet.

"Spencer." Hotch spoke even more gently than he had the night before. He hardly ever called Reid by his first name, and by doing so he was showing a side of himself which the team members have rarely witnessed first hand. He hadn't felt this worried about someone he cared for in awhile, not since Jack had gotten a really bad flu some time back. Headaches were one thing, but this was starting to look undeniably serious. "I really think we should take you to a doctor."

"Can't move. The light hurts." Reid whimpered as he curled further into himself. He dreaded the idea of having to crawl out from under the covers. It was already freezing enough as it was and having to expose himself to the light, which was currently being blocked by the covers, would only fuel the pain in his head. He could feel Hotch place a hand roughly where his shoulder was positioned and he wished that he didn't have to leave the warmth of his bed. He had always taken care of himself when he had fallen ill as a child, he had gotten so used to it that it felt uncomfortable now to have someone trying to look after him. He didn't want the attention. No matter how bad he felt, he just wanted to sink away and disappear until this all passed and life could go back to normal, like it always did. He didn't want to deal with doctors and tests and the endless numbers of questions they would no doubt ask. If he could just go back to sleep then everything will eventually get better, right? Hotch, however, wasn't taking chances anymore.

"I'll help." Hotch's voice was now a little more forceful, making it clear that although he understood Spencer's pain, he also wasn't giving him a choice in the matter. Going to see a doctor wasn't as much a suggestion as it was a direct order. He would rather have the kid be displeased with him now than risk further complications in the long run. "Cover your eyes with your hands."

He waited for Reid to do as he was told before he slowly pulled away the duvet. Within seconds of having it removed Spencer began to shiver more fiercely, his only true source of heat being gone. It felt like he had been stuffed into a freezer, icy needles sticking into every inch of his skin. And though his hands helped to keep some of the light away from his eyes, they weren't quite as effective. Small beams still managed to find a way through the gaps in his fingers and assaulted his vision with scorching flashes of pain going off in his brain. The drumming became louder. Da-dum! Da-dum! Da-dum! It was almost deafening at this point.

He felt a set of hands, strong yet gentle, grip his upper arm and hold his back as they carefully pulled him up and guided him into a sitting position, his legs now dangling off the side of the bed. Never once did the hands force any movements, merely supporting him in every way they could. He couldn't see a single thing, but he didn't have to in order to know who the hands belonged to. Sitting up made him dizzy, the world already feeling like it was spinning around him. The nausea from earlier returned in full force and he used almost all his concentration just to stop himself from getting sick. More than once gravity threatened to pull him down in one direction or another. It wasn't long before a second set of hands took hold of his other arm, both of the other agent's working together to keep him upright.

"You okay kiddo?" Rossi's voice sounded almost right next to his ear, soft and low. He appreciated that both the other agents didn't talk too loudly, that they were trying to keep him as comfortable as possible. It helped, even if just a little. He didn't answer though. His head hurt too much for him to attempt a nod and if he opened his mouth to talk he was afraid he might whimper from the pain or get sick instead. "We've got you. Just lean on us."

Rossi and Hotch looked at each other, their eyes sharing the same concerned look as they supported the shivering profiler in their arms. Silently Hotch cursed himself for not taking Reid to get proper medical attention earlier. He had hoped that whatever it was would have passed by now, instead the delay had only allowed his condition to worsen. Should have known better, he thought to himself. But what could he do about it now? What's done was done, no changing that.

"Think you'll be alright sanding up?" Hotch's voice now sounded distant and distorted to Reid as his mind idly worked to process what was being said. It was almost like something had created a thick wall of cotton between him and the rest of the world, muffling any and all sounds. Even the drumming in his head quiet down a bit, though the throbbing pain remained. His head felt even more fogged up than before, his thoughts easily getting lost inside the fuzzy cloud. He didn't get a chance to respond to the question as he felt himself being lifted into a standing position. It was so strange, he felt almost disconnected from himself. If it wasn't for the support the other's gave him he would have toppled over in an instant.

Like before he found it difficult to focus. Concepts of time, space and reality danced in and out of existence, making it incredibly hard to keep track of what was happening around him. The others were still talking, that much he knew, but what they were saying and whether or not they were talking to him was indistinguishable. He wasn't even completely sure whether everything he heard was actually being said by the other two profilers, or if some of it was just his own thoughts being echoed back at him.

A red flag went up somewhere in the foggy realms, his mind subconsciously connecting dots that he couldn't quite follow at a conscious level. A feeling of impending danger crashed over him as confusion made way for fear and his gut twisted with sudden anxiety. "Something's wrong." He tried to speak, but even his own voice was muted, the only sound now audible being an unusual, high pitched ring. This wasn't good. None of this was good. It was as if every fiber of his being was suddenly screaming at him that something bad was coming, though try as he might he couldn't grasp what.

All the pain and confusion melted together, creating a feeling of pure exhaustion and mental pause. Nothing registered anymore. Everything, thoughts and memories, feelings and senses, it all became an unidentifiable blur. He couldn't think. It felt like he was losing control, his own mind had finally turned against him and there was nothing he could do. Never before had he felt so helpless. In less than a minute the entire world had fallen away around him. It was suffocating him. He could feel it. Though his lungs could expand the needed oxygen simply wasn't there.

And then. Nothing.

~ 0oo o0 o0o 0o0 ~ o0o0o0 ~ 0oo o0 o0o 0o0 o o0o ~ o0o0o0 ~ 0o00 o 0 ~ 0oo o0 o0o 0o0 o o0o ~ o0o0o0 o0o0o0 o0o0o0 ~

"Something's wrong." Reid whispered in a tone so low Hotch and Rossi could barely even make it out. His breathing had sped up to the point where the kid was almost hyperventilating and if Rossi didn't know any better he would have figured the boy was having a panic attack.

"What is it?" He questioned, hoping that the younger agent would be able to clarify what exactly he meant, but the reply didn't come. Not that he held it against the kid for not answering, it was clear to anyone that he was more out of it than in. "Reid?"

"Reid?!" The concern Hotch had felt mere seconds ago suddenly flared into momentary panic as Spencer lost all consciousness, collapsing fully into the support of their arms. Had they not already been holding him up the kid would have surely fallen to the floor. Quickly yet carefully they guided Reid's now limp body down to lay on his back and the two older men crouched down beside him. Hotch's heart raced in his chest, beating fiercely as his mind battled to process all the information it had received in the past few seconds. Everything was just happening so fast.

Without any form of warning Reid went entirely rigid, every last muscle in his body straining, his back arching until it wasn't even touching the ground anymore. And he screamed. A loud, agonized, heart-stopping scream which cut into the other agents deeper than any blade or bullet ever could. It cut right into their souls, chilling them to the bone. It was a sound neither of them would ever forget, one which was sure to haunt their nightmares for years to come. The sound of a fellow agent, a friend, in such torment. Hotch hadn't felt levels of pure dread this strong in a very long time.

What the hell was happening?!

Rossi was the first to snap back into an at least somewhat composed state, the urgency to take action outweighing the momentary shock. The wheels in his head turned faster than that of a steam engine. His eyes widened slightly as the pieces started falling into place and the realization hit him. He'd seen these symptoms before. This wasn't good. Any second…

"Turn him on his side! Now!" He ordered, not waiting for Hotch to comply as he already moved to grab a pillow from one of the beds and carefully placed it under Spencer's head. Whilst Hotch saved a split second to glance at the older agent in slight confusion he quickly decided it best to do as he was told, rolling Spencer onto his side as gently as he could. Then it happened, just as Rossi had feared.

The convulsions started.

A seizure? Of all the things that could have possibly gone wrong during the run of this case, this was most certainly the thing Hotch would've expected the least. Not daring to waist any more time at getting Reid the medical help he so obviously needed, Hotch grabbed his phone off the nearby bedside table, only to find that its battery was dead, making it completely useless. In a minor fit of frustration, which was admittedly unusual for him, Hotch tossed his phone quite gracelessly to the side. Its screen smashed as it collided with the hard floor. Everything seemed to be going wrong all at once, and the worst part was that Hotch could do practically nothing to help. As the seconds crawled by and Rossi used his own cell to dial 9-1-1, Hotch was forced to hold back and watch the scene unfold, unable to do anything to help his youngest agent, unable to help the kid he had sworn to protect since the day he joined the BAU.

Time became a blur and Hotch had no idea how long it had been before the spasms finally came to a stop. He could tell that Rossi was still talking on the phone, but this became part of the background as he somehow found himself focusing all his attention on the now completely still young man who lay in front of him. It felt like way too much time had passed before the kid finally cracked open his eyes and peered up at him with those chestnut orbs. Seeing Reid start to wake up Hotch released an almost shaky breath, one he hadn't realized he was even holding before.

"Hotch?" Reid's voice sounded so weak and fragile and broken, something which he sould never have to be. He looked lost and confused, somehow he even appeared more pale than he usually was. All of this together only made him appear all the more vulnerable, and though he didn't show it, Hotch's heart ached at the sound of his name.

"We're right here, Reid." Hotch spoke in what he hoped to be a reassuring tone. He was truly grateful that the kid was at least talking again, not that it did much to make either him or Rossi feel any better.

"Yeah, kiddo." Hotch glanced up as Rossi finally rejoined the conversation. Though neither of the older profilers truly allowed their exteriors to show the concern they felt, they both knew that they found the situation equally worrisome. They shared a brief look of understanding before their attention was turned back to the team's youngest. Sirens could finally be heard approaching in the distance and the men all felt relief that help was on the way.

"Y' won't leave, righ'?" Reid questioned, his voice slurred with exhaustion. It felt as though he was neither fully awake nor asleep, but rather trapped in some strange in-between state of consciousness limbo, unwilling to commit to either side just yet. "Wouldn't think of it." He heard Rossi's calming voice one last time before the darkness finally decided to swallow him up and carry him off.

~ 0 oooo o ~ 0oo o0 o0o 0o0 0o o ooo ooo ~ 0o0 o o o00o ooo ~ 00o o0o 000 o00 oo 0o 00o ~ o0o0o0 o0o0o0 o0o0o0 ~

 **The following is an author's note:**

 **See! I did continue it! I didn't forget! Hehe, heh…**

 **Sorry I took so long. What can I say? We had exams and then I kinda just lost my grip on the story and couldn't figure out how I wanted to continue it. But I will continue it… probably… Erm it might take a while, heh heh.**

 **I got into CSI while I was gone, and I am now convinced CSI and Criminal Minds take place in the same universe! (*whispers* Also, Greg Sanders is amazing.)**

 **I really hope this chapter is okay *nervously plays with thumbs*, oh well, won't know till you try.**

 **Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! Your support helps a ton.**

 **Have a nice day/night. Munchkin out! *poof***


	3. The Family

**Warning:**

 **May contain slight language (but probably nothing THAT bad). Also, all non-canon characters are not based on any real life people (and in the case that I decide to do it in the future I would have specifically gotten consent from anyone whom a character may be based on). Names/descriptions were chosen randomly with personalities and professions chosen to fit their particular purpose in this story.**

~ oo ~ oo0o, o, o0, o0o ~ 0, oooo, o ~ 0oo, o0, o0o, 0o0 ~

As if time decided to make up for all the occasions it had slowed to a crawl earlier it now instead seemed to launch itself into fast forward, allowing everything to go over in a flash. The next few minutes passed with a brisk paced blur of activity and confusion. A moment in time which seemed to slip by so quickly, neither of the two elder agents could accurately recall the exact sequence of events later on. Unsurprisingly, Hotch and Rossi were forced to move out of the general area as paramedics made their way into the small hotel room and set to work. One of them - a fiery haired, middle aged woman with a straight-faced expression which could have given even Hotch a run for his money - made her way over to the two agents whilst her male comrades attended to Reid.

"I need to ask you a few questions. This shouldn't take too long. Please answer as accurately as possible." Despite the situation, Rossi could feel his profiler side kicking in, instinctively working to read her character. Her sentences were quick, simple and as straight forwards as they ever could have been. Her voice constantly remained in a serious monotone. Everything she said sounded like it was being read directly out of a textbook, no doubt due to extensive experience. Chances were she'd been doing this job for a long time, long enough for every word to come as naturally as breathing itself. Professional, hardworking, reliable. Good.

She continued to bombard the two men with questions about what had happened, each one as straightforward as the last. Though most of them were fairly simple - such as "What's his name?", "Does he have any allergies?" and "Are you family?" - there were still some which both men found difficult to answer. Questions like "Had he shown any symptoms yesterday?" caused silent internal debates on whether things like partial clumsiness and drinking at least seven cups of coffee were just due to Reid being Reid, or possibly something more. The knowledge that he probably wouldn't have mentioned anything even if he had been feeling ill only made it all the more difficult to be sure.

Meanwhile, an entirely different conversation was taking place between the other two paramedics as they attended to the fallen agent. Though both Rossi and Hotch did their best to keep their full attention on giving accurate answers, it was nigh impossible to not catch some bits and pieces of the other conversation. Here and there snippets such as "hypotension" and "rapid breathing" would still manage to slip through, and they couldn't help taking notice.

With time still shooting by, it felt as though they had barely spent a minute with the red haired paramedic when her questions began to die down and a stretcher was already being wheeled into the room by one of the others. With preparations swiftly being made to move Reid to the waiting emergency vehicle, neither of the other agents were really allowed a chance to thoroughly process everything that was happening.

Having caught a break from the questions, Rossi spared a moment to look over at Hotch, hoping to get a bit of insight as to what was currently running through the other man's head. What he found somewhat surprised him. Hotch stood frozen, his usual stern and collected look plastered on his face. And yet his eyes kept shifting as he constantly looked around the room, never truly staying still for more than a few seconds at a time. It was as though he was contemplating something very thoroughly, unsure of what conclusion to come to. It didn't take long for Rossi to catch on to what Hotch's most probable line of thinking must have been. He knew what an internal debate looked like when he saw one, two conflicting ideas battling it out inside a person's head. And considering their current situation, it wasn't exactly hard to guess which issue was plaguing the agent's thoughts.

It has never really been a secret that the members of the B.A.U. were more like a makeshift family than just a team of coworkers. Personally, Rossi didn't know where specifically he would fit into this mix-matched group, but that was beside the point. Right now, a member of their little family had been struck down, leaving him damaged and in need of support. Support which any member of a family would naturally feel obligated to give. No doubt Hotch would have been feeling that same obligation, and Rossi had picked up on the paternal way Hotch treated the youngest quite a while ago. Still, family or not, they had a job to do. This of course brought it's own responsibilities with it. They both had the responsibility to return to their work as soon as possible, and that was the perfect combination to cause an internal struggle.

On the one hand, there was still a murderer out there who needed to be caught. A serial who would certainly kill again if they didn't catch them soon. When on the job, the safety of the public should always be their first concern, everything else falling into second place. On the other, the wellbeing of their team could easily be deemed equally as important. Part of Hotch - the gentle and caring side of himself which he usually masked so well - wanted nothing more than to go with Reid to make sure the kid was alright. If something like this had happened under any other circumstance, such as a field injury, the conclusion would have been a lot simpler. Leave it to the paramedics, get back to the job. However, this time around the status of their current case wasn't nearly as urgent as it usually was when things like this happened, making it all the more difficult for Hotch to decide which course of action would be the most appropriate.

Rossi could imagine how torn something like this would make someone feel, having to choose between your duty and your emotions. Then again, he himself had never exactly been an expert at balancing the two, with three failed marriages as proof of that. Taking another thorough look at the man he made up his own mind to take action, placing a firm hand on Hotch's shoulder. Having been pulled out of his own thoughts, Hotch's eyes finally ceased to wander and focused on the Italian profiler.

"You should go with them." Rossi advised, aiming to help out with the decision. Hotch frowned for a split second, considering his words before his hesitation became evident and his gaze was averted yet again. He wasn't quite convinced yet.

"Alright look, no offence, but you're clearly not in any state to be going to work right now." Rossi pointed out with a little more seriousness, gesturing at the agent's less than professional appearance to further prove his point. "We'll manage. It'll be good for Reid to have a familiar face around when he wakes up. And besides, we had just made a promise that we wouldn't leave him, remember?"

After a final few seconds of turning the options around in his head, Hotch finally agreed. Rossi was right, about both things. It wouldn't be fair to leave Reid now, and even if Hotch did go back to work his lack of sleep would probably only make him a minor asset at best. The team would manage without them, it'll probably only be for one day after all. As the paramedics finally prepared to leave, Hotch gave Rossi a small nod of appreciation and a quick "Thanks" before swiftly following the group out of the room and down the hall.

~ o0, 0o, 0oo ~ 0, oooo, o0, 0 ~ o00, oooo, oo, 0o0o, oooo ~ oooo, oo, 0oo, o, ooo ~ 0ooo, o, 0o, o, o0, 0, oooo ~ oo, 0, ooo ~ 0o0o, o0oo, 000, o0, 0o0 ~

A smile curled around the corners of Morgan's lips as he pressed the 'play' button and the sweet sounds of Illmatic came flowing from his headphones. He allowed the rhythm of the music to wash over him, giving a boost to his already positive mood. In his opinion, the day had started out perfectly thus far. The morning sun was bright and warm, there had been no late night calls back to the station and for once he had actually gotten a proper night's worth of sleep, which was saying something considering they were still on a case. He lightly chuckled to himself as he tied his shoes, wondering if their team leader would be able to say the same. At first, he had almost felt guilty for insisting that Rossi and Reid switch out rooms the night before, knowing that it was likely less than fair to, well, most people involved. But having been able to finally get some sleep for a reasonable amount of time was just enough bliss to make up for any doubt he had felt earlier.

Having a break from sharing a room with Reid really did do him good. Don't get him wrong, he loved the quirky genius and he couldn't have considered him more of a brother even if they were blood relatives, but sometimes he was just a bit too much. Especially at night. For some reason, Reid had this habit of beginning to ramble right around the time they were actually supposed to sleep. The lights would be out for less than a minute when he'd usually start sharing random ideas or spewing odd facts about whatever topic his mind was fixated on at the moment. This could go on for hours, especially when they already had a lot on their minds with a case. Whether he was a bit of an insomniac or if his mind was just too active for his own good, Morgan didn't know. Either way, Morgan really didn't want to be kept up yet again, listening to detailed theories about nanobots and how they could be used to fix mistakes in DNA or something like that. He had just needed some rest. And thankfully, he was able to get it. Now he just hoped that the kid didn't have any hard feelings. Or anyone else for that matter.

Whilst playing with the idea that perhaps he should make it up to his young friend by buying him a cup of his favorite coffee, he went to grab his keys off the hotel's kitchen counter. Right now he was quickly getting some things ready before he'd have to go meet up with the junior genius for their shared ride to the station. He was just about to leave when an alien noise pierced through the music still coming from his headphones. For a second a surprised and confused frown creased his forehead, his mind quickly running through all the logical and obvious solutions for what it may have been. It couldn't have been Rossi, as the elder Italian man had already stepped out a short while ago. In fact, it didn't even sound like it was coming from inside their room at all.

Lowering his headphones to rest around his neck he turned in the general direction of the sound's origin, only to find himself facing the hotel-room window. With the music now out of the way he could easily identify what exactly it was - darn it if he hadn't already heard it enough times before - and stepping closer to look out of the window confirmed his suspicions. Ambulance sirens. From his vantage point he could clearly make out the white and red vehicle speedly making its way across the parking lot below and coming to a stop in front of the building entrance. Something was going on, that was a given. Hell, he just hoped it wasn't a result of the unsub attacking someone in the hotel. Right under their noses, he would never be able to forgive himself.

With his curiosity now peaked he hastily grabbed the rest of his things and made his way out of the room. If he moved quickly he may have been able to get some information from the ambulance crew before they left. He made sure that he heard the metallic 'click' confirming that his room was locked before he turned away. Apparently he wasn't the only one who had noticed the noise, with Emily quickly emerging from the room across from his.

"You heard it too?" She questioned as she adjusted her hair, obviously having left just as hastily as he had. Jay-Jay soon followed behind her, wearing the same expression of curiosity and uncertainty as the other two.

"Yeah, I saw the ambulance pull up in the parking lot." He confirmed, pointing with his thumb in its general direction. The sirens have taken a moment of silence for the time being, but were bound to start up again once the vehicle began its return trip. They could only just make out some of the disturbance taking place on the lower floor as it echoed up the stairwell.

"Wha- Do you know what happened?" Both Emily and Jay-Jay had been hoping that either Rossi or Morgan would have had a better idea of what was going on, as neither of them could have even seen the parking lot from their side of the building. Unfortunately, it appeared as though Rossi had already left and Morgan was just as out of the loop as they were.

"No idea."

"You don't think the unsub would have struck here, would he?" Emily's thoughts followed much the same pattern which Morgan's had followed earlier. She doubted that the cause for the ambulance would be due to their unsub, as his victims would usually already be dead long before they were even discovered. Still, there was always the possibility, and she didn't even want to begin to think of the repercussions that would stir up if he managed to kill someone in the same place they were staying. The media would no doubt have a field day with that.

"I don't know, let's hope not."

"Well, whatever it is, looks like it's on the ground floor." Jay-Jay pointed out, noting the evident lack of people making their way up to the second floor. With the spirit of inquiry burning bright as a flickering flame they started making their way toward the source of the fuss, anxious to find answers to their burning questions. Jay-Jay was right. Judging by the apparent distance of the noise, it sounded as though none of the ambulance staff had any intention of working anywhere near the staircase, let alone on the second floor. Whatever had happened to call them here was definitely taking place on the ground floor.

No doubt they weren't the only ones curious about what was going on. Reaching the bottom of the stairs they could see several half open doors, most of which were cracked just wide enough for heads to be poked out. Unsurprisingly, there were a few other people who wanted to know what was going on, but no one who actually wanted to get themselves involved. This resulted in an audience of silent onlookers who were quietly observing the scene from the safety of their doorways.

That, however, was not the thing which caught Morgan's attention. No, instead his eyes found themselves locked on the doorway to the room where the majority of the commotion seemed to be coming from. Shock and disbelief crashed down on him like a bucket of ice water once he took note of the room number. That was… oh no. For a moment which felt far too long yet couldn't have been more than a few seconds he froze in place, allowing the sudden shock to run through him and leave a pit of dread in his stomach. There was no mistaking it, that was Hotch's room number. Which meant…

He didn't have time to finish the thought as a group of people exited the room, obviously in a rush. Between the distortion of motion and dark blue medical uniforms he could just barely catch a glimpse of of whomever it was they were wheeling out on the stretcher. That didn't matter though, as he would have been able to identify that head of messy brown hair anywhere.

"Was that?" Emily started, but couldn't quite finish voicing her thoughts, uncertainty causing her to hesitate. The situation they had been thrust into had caught them all off guard.

no. Morgan could feel his heart accelerating within his chest, sense the unexpected shock-induced-adrenaline spreading through his veins as he watched the group move further down the hall away from them with a less than formal looking Hotch following closely behind. His mind scarcely had enough time to register all the information it had been flooded with before he already started to run after them, both Emily and Jay-Jay hot on his heels. No, please no.

This couldn't have been happening again. Not so soon. Not after what had happened to Penelope just a few months ago. How could it be, that a member of their little family was being rushed to an ambulance yet again after only such a short amount of time? It wasn't fair. The three of them made it about halfway down the hall when Rossi stepped out of the room and in front of them, blocking the way and forcing them to come to a stop.

"Woah, woah. Slow down." Rossi's composure was professional and collected, just as one would expect from him, his hands and arms slightly raised and spread out to form a sort of barrier to prevent the younger profilers - especially Morgan - from chasing after the group. Regardless of what was happening with Reid, they still had a job to do. Hotch was already out of the game, at least for now, and they couldn't afford being three or more men down, so there was no way he could let Morgan, or any of the others for that matter, follow them to the hospital as well.

"Rossi. What the hell happened man?" Morgan's voice rose with agitation, the shock and adrenaline getting the better of him. He tried to look at the group of medics over the other profiler's shoulder, but whenever he did Rossi would simply move in front of him again, obviously trying to keep his attention on him rather than on what was happening further down the hall. It annoyed him, adding fuel to his frustration which was already swiftly threatening to get out of hand. Rossi was relieved to note that Jay-Jay and Emily appeared to remain calm, though he was sure they felt equally concerned. At least they didn't pose the potential threat of punching a hole in the wall, unlike a particular ex-cop.

"Listen, Reid's sick. He had a seizure and their taking him to the hospital now to get him checked out." Rossi kept his voice level, trying to explain the situation as simply and calmly as possibly in the hopes that it'll help the others calm down as well. The last thing they need was for anyone else to start panicking.

"A seizure?" Emily repeated, as if to confirm whether what she was hearing was correct. Disbelief was strongly evident in her voice. The idea of something like that happening to the team Einstein was most certainly peculiar, especially when she considered that - as far as she was aware - he had never had a history of such things before.

"Is he alright?" Jay-Jay of course wanted to make sure of their friend's well being before they had the chance to move on to discussing something else. She told herself that he'll be fine, but she needed to hear it from someone else, needed someone to confirm that he'll be all right.

"I'm not sure." Rossi reluctantly admitted.

Morgan's brow furrowed in confusion, some of the new information he received just didn't quite fit. "Rossi, I spoke to him last night. He was fine. What the hell could have changed overnight for him to have a seizure?!"

"I don't know. That's why they're taking him to the hospital, to find out." It was unfortunate that Rossi couldn't answer all their questions. He would have prefered it if he could have put their minds at ease, put his own at ease. But right now none of them really had the answers they were looking for. "Look, Hotch is already going with him. We won't be helping anyone by just waiting around to hear something from them."

"Do you think this has anything to do with the case?" Emily finally decided to bring up the question she and Morgan had been tossing around earlier.

"I doubt it. Even if this is some kind of deliberate poisoning, it's a pretty big leap from our unsub's usual M.O." This allowed a collective touch of relief to settle in each of the team's hearts. Though it wasn't much, they could at least feel a little better knowing that their family wasn't being targeted again. Rossi allowed a moment for the other three profilers to better compose themselves before he spoke again. "The best thing we can do right now, is get back to the station and focus on the case. The sooner we solve it, the sooner we can all be there for Reid."

Morgan hated to admit it, but Rossi had a point. They wouldn't be changing anything by waiting around at the hospital. Still it annoyed the hell out of him that there wasn't anything he could do. Clenching his fists he took a few deep breaths, willing the air to drown out his frustration and revive reason. With his heart steadily returning to a normal speed he began converting his annoyance into determination. Determination fueling his motivation to work. Like Rossi said, the quicker they identify the unsub, the quicker they can all focus on Reid.

"All right." He said with a small nod, a strong sense of will burning in his voice "Let's go catch that creep."

~ 0, oooo, o ~ 000, 0o, o, ooo ~ o00, oooo, 000 ~ oooo, o, o0oo, o00o ~ 0, 000 ~ 00o, o, 0 ~ 00, o ~ 0, oooo, o0o, 000, oo0, 00o, oooo ~

The entirety of the ride in the ambulance somehow managed to be stretched with tension. Hotch understood fully that the paramedics knew exactly what they were doing, but that still didn't help him rid himself of the feelings of guilt and the ever growing concern. He couldn't help but feel that this was somehow his fault. He really should have taken action sooner. He should have taken Reid to the doctor back when his symptoms were still mild. There were things he could have done to prevent this situation, and yet here they were.

"Contact the hospital, tell them to get the ICU ready, we'll likely have to move him there directly from the ER." Hotch was pulled out of his own thoughts as the loud and strict voice of the red haired paramedic boomed inside the small vehicle. Ann, he thinks her name was. Then again, he hadn't really been paying attention to such things. One of the other paramedics, a somewhat chubby young man with sandy blond hair - didn't dare hesitate in doing as she told. Clearly she was in charge. "Patient is showing multiple signs of SIRS, could possibly be sepsis. ARDS is suspected so tell them to have a mechanical ventilation system on standby."

Her words only served to intensify Hotch's concern. Sure, he wasn't a doctor and he didn't fully comprehend all the technicalities of what she said, but he knew enough to understand that it was not good. His eyes scanned the quiet, unresponsive young profiler in front of him and he wondered what the hell the kid could have ever done for life to keep handing him the short straw. It was odd, if it weren't for Spencer's unnaturally short and shallow breaths and the thin sheen of sweat that covered his face he would have almost looked like he was sleeping. Almost.

Ann meanwhile had her own concerns. Sure, she had worked this job for many years and she'd seen her fair share of bad cases. The town wasn't exactly big so usually things would be relatively calm, but on the odd occasion when something serious did happen she was always on the scene. She knew what she was doing and she'd be damn well willing to prove it if someone told her otherwise. But, out of all the fires, assaults and car wrecks she had dealt with in her time, she had never came across a case quite like this one. The particular combination of symptoms were unusual, needless to say they don't typically get cases like this in a town like theirs. That especially bothered her, not knowing the exact ins and outs of the situation.

All the attention in the small vehicle was snapped to the ill profiler as he began to stir, shifting his position slightly in a futile attempt to be more comfortable on the wheeled stretcher. Though he didn't open his eyes, it was a small relief to everyone involved that he was at least showing signs of consciousness again, albeit only slight.

"Reid, Reid can you hear me?" Hotch questioned hopefully, anxiously awaiting a response, any kind of response, from the younger man.

"...hdge.." Reid slurred, vocalizing what could barely be described as a word. His voice was weak and raspy, sounding incredibly exhausted. Still, it was enough. At least he was speaking, and that was certainly better than nothing.

"Sir, can you tell me your name?" Ann questioned. Yes, she already knew his name from what Rossi and Hotch had told her, but from her experience it was always a good idea to asses a patient's mental state when they come around. Names and dates were generally good questions to ask.

"..-tch...don'..wahn…"

"Reid?" Hotch tried to get his attention, though it didn't seem to be working. He doubted whether Reid even knew they were there with him. He didn't appear to be making an effort to answer the previous question, heck he didn't even really appear to respond to their voices.

"...don'..le..mm…..don'..w'nt...i'..."

"His speech is completely nonsensical." Ann concluded, realizing that they weren't going to get anything comprehensive from him.

"Reid, I can't understand, what are you trying to say?" Hotch tried again, truly hoping that the kid would speak up. It would be good if they could get a general idea of how he was feeling.

"..no..d'ld….."

"Reid?"

"..."

"Spencer, can you hear us?" The space was once again filled with silence as Reid was apparently pulled back into the realm of the unconscious. They were back to where they started, and nothing new had been achieved, which was rather disappointing and discouraging.

"He's unresponsive." Ann finally confirmed, pinching the patient's arm to check for any reaction to painful stimuli. There was none. He was out cold.

"Don't worry, we're almost there." The blond haired paramedic tried to reassure Hotch, having picked up on the ever so slight tone of concern in the man's voice. Honestly, his words didn't do much.

~ o0, o0o, o ~ 0, oooo, o ~ oo0o, o0o, oo, o, 0o, 0oo, ooo ~ o00, oooo, 000 ~ 00o, oo, ooo0, o ~ 00, o ~ oooo, 000, o00o, o ~

 **The following is an overly long author's note:**

 **You people are amazing! Thank you all for the support!**

 **Oh my word, you guys have no idea how much research I've been doing for this story alone. Trying to make this story scientifically accurate, but I've never been to America, nor have I had any kind of first person experience with this sort of thing, so I may have made a few mistakes. I apologize for that.**

 **Did you know that Septicemia and Sepsis are not the same things? Or that dilaudid can cause people to have very VERY weird dreams (also it takes 15 min for it to take effect and can last up to 6 hours!)? Apparently brain tumors are one of the most common forms of cancer in young adults. There is no cure for Ricin poisoning. And Jell-O is not vegan friendly, possibly not even vegetarian friendly at that. I'm not going to tell you which of these bits of info are actually relevant to the story though ;) Because that would spoil things.**

 **Emily's speech pattern is a bit hard to represent with text.**

 **Currently I'm debating with myself on whether or not I want to throw the unsub into this mix. I mean, it could be interesting. But on the other hand, do I really want to complicate things?**

 **I did change some mistakes I made in previous chapters (the changes are relatively small and have no impact on the overall story - eg. turns out Hotch is actually taller than Reid, so that's a thing)**

 **Again, sorry that it took so long, heh heh. Only a few more chapters to go, so full speed ahead (I'm already working on upcoming chapters)! Thank you all so much for the support, it really means a lot. I'll do my best to make the story worth it. I hope this chapter isn't too bad.**

 **Feel free to leave any thoughts in a review (only if you want to).**

 **Have a wonderful day/night. Cyber high five (for those who want)! Munchkin out *poof***

 **M 0 r s E**


	4. Broken Clocks

**Warning: If you have any triggering bad memories of hospital experiences, then reader discretion is advised.**

~ oo ~ o0oo, 000, ooo0, o ~ 0, oooo, o ~ o0o, o0, oo, 0o ~

A blinding flash cut through the air, thunder rolling and shaking the earth. The world was dark. Not the kind of dark that occurs when the sun has set and night has taken its hold. No, it was the kind of dark that formed when the clouds were layered so thick that it might as well have been night. A fuzzy ceiling of grey and blue loomed over the world.

The thick clouds above were a firing squad, the earth below their target. The sky was a battle field and anything or anyone who dared to step foot outside was sure to be caught in the crossfire. The world around them was soaked, muddy ground squelching beneath their feet with every step they took. Cold liquid bullets rained down, exploding like tiny water balloons wherever they hit their skin. Water seeped into their clothing and clung to their hair. Everything was wet. Truly, the sky was drowning the earth.

But that wasn't going to stop them. They were on the job, and nothing was going to get in their way, not even the wrath of the heavens. Hearts pounded within their ribcages, caution turned up high and senses on full alert. A flash of a memory briefly shot through his mind as he pressed his back against the exterior wall of the barn. " _This time, we don't split up."_ Just as quickly as it has surfaced it faded away again, his mind returning to the job. The confrontation was at hand. Whomever they were looking for, however this was going to end, all that separated them from the answers was a thin wooden wall.

A strong wind howled around the corners of the frail looking building, ripping through the trees as it made their branches dance and their leaves rustled violently. The metallic surface of the Smith & Wesson was cold to the touch, water from the rain running down his exposed arms and some of it dripping off the end of its three inch barrel. He ignored the cold, even as it was aggravated by the fierce current of air and his skin became covered in goosebumps. Slowly they edged their way along the barn wall, nearing the front opening. He stopped when Morgan lightly tapped him on the shoulder, grabbing his attention before signaling that he was going around the back. After receiving a silent nod of understanding the other profiler moved in the opposite direction and soon disappeared around the corner of the rectangular building. The rest of them continued on as before.

Reaching the front of the barn they could see the wide opening, relieved to find that the barn doors where not closed as that would have just made things a bit more complicated. He inched closer, going on until he was just barely covered at the edge of the gap in the wall. Not that the thin wood layer would do much if whomever was in there decided to open fire on them, but it was still better than nothing. He glanced over at Jay-Jay, who stood at the opposite end of the gap. She was just as drenched as he was, her long blond hair darkened ever so slightly by the water. For a moment their eyes met, silent communications of shared thoughts and fears being easily understood without so much as a word having to be said. She gave him a small nod, signaling that she was in place and ready. Having received the confirmation he squeezed his eyes shut and for a few seconds rested his head against the wet wooden barrier behind him, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation they were about to face. He took a few deep breaths of the cool, moist air, willing his heart to stop drumming so violently in his chest and his angst to die down. This was it. The end game. Their move. Check.

"F.B.I.!" Turning his head to face the barn opening he loudly announced their presence, not daring to peek inside just yet. The prospect of potentially having a gun pointed at his head, or at a hostage if they were really unlucky, wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to. They waited, silently, for a response. Seconds ticked by, but nothing came. There was no voice, none of the usual expected " _Leave!"_ or " _Get out of here or I'll kill them!"_. None of that, not even the sound of movement. Nothing.

Another deep breath. Inhale, exhale, repeat. There wasn't much of a choice left now. If they weren't going to get a response then they'll have to go in. He tightened his grip on the gun, his finger positioned close to the trigger. Not for the first time in his life he was thankful for the protective layer of kevlar which at least shielded his torso. Slowly he raised the gun to his chest. Ready… Set… In one swift movement he left the cover of the barn wall and stepped out in front of the barn entrance, pointing the revolver ahead of him. Ready to shoot if he needed to. Ready to face whatever terror may lurk inside. He was, however, not truly prepared for what he found.

The barn was mostly empty. The entirety of its interior was illuminated by the orange glow from a single strong light which hung from the ceiling. Everything inside seemed to be dry and warm. The walls were lined with rectangular hay bales, the dry golden foliage having also been strewn across the floor to create a soft, semi-natural carpet of storts. And right in the middle, placed directly beneath the light, there was a chess table and two chairs. One vacant, one occupied. Reid's heart froze, arms dropping slowly as he lowered his gun. The man in the barn wasn't a threat, or at least he didn't perceive him as one. And yet the sight of his familiar face rattled him with shock, disbelief, confusion, and the familiar faint tint of betrayal and anger. He didn't know what to think or what to do, so he just stood there out in the rain and stared.

"Gideon?" Finally he voiced his confusion, questioning whether or not he was actually seeing the elder man. His voice was quiet, so much so that he doubted that it was even audible over the noise of the storm. It didn't make sense. Why? How? This shouldn't be possible, and yet at the same time he was right there.

"Spencer, glad you could make it." His former mentor greeted, motioning with his hands for Reid to come in. Slowly and suspiciously the young doctor stepped into the enclosed space of the barn. He was surprised how warm the inside actually was, the cozy air folding around him like a soft blanket. It was as if the inside of the barn was a whole different world. A small bubble which was protected from the storm raging outside, creating an instant feeling of chrysalism.

"What are you doing here?" He questioned, unable to help the smallest sting of anger that slipped into his tone. Memories of abandonment drifted around in his head, darkening his mood. It wasn't so much that he was mad at his former mentor and father figure, but more a case of disappointment and a feeling of hurt. He still hadn't fully gotten over the fact that Gideon had left him, just like William had, and he wasn't sure if he ever would. Yet, simultaneously he was also, glad. Part of him truly was happy to see him again. But mainly, he was just very confused.

"That's not the right question. There's something else you should be asking." Gideon quickly corrected him, using the straightforward tutoring voice Reid had heard so often when he was still under his wing. Spencer frowned, wondering exactly what the ex-profiler meant. The right question? What would be more important to know? What _should_ he be asking then? He couldn't see how such a simple question could be wrong.

"Come on, you're a smart kid. You should have figured it out by now." Gideon urged him on, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. It was as if he honestly expected Reid to just suddenly know the answer off the top of his head. Sure, Reid was good at figuring things out, that was one of the few strong points he was willing to admit he had, but it wasn't as if he was omniscient. There were still a lot of things left for him to learn, and many things he didn't quite understand. One of which being the current situation.

Still, something told him that Gideon had a point. There was something else going on, something bigger than just his old mentor randomly showing up out of nowhere, in the middle of their case. The case… Where were the others? He spun around, facing toward the barn entrance and gazing out at the stormy landscape beyond. They were nowhere to be seen. Jay-Jay, who was supposed to have his back when he came it, had seemingly disappeared into thin air, and there was no sign that Morgan was ever planning on actually coming in through the back.

Now that he had started thinking about it, more and more flaws became evident within the whole situation. Why were they even here? Where even was 'here'? What was the case they were supposed to be working on? The more he questioned it, the more everything just seemed to be out of order. He honestly didn't know why he had come to the barn in the first place, he just did. It wasn't logical. It wasn't possible…

It wasn't real.

"Exactly." He turned to face Gideon again, instantly noting the wide, proud smile on man's face. It was like his very expression was congratulating him, saying ' _well done, you've figured it out.'_ As the realization sunk in everything began to clear up, his thinking suddenly feeling so much smoother, his reasoning all the more sensible. He could feel the new control he had over his own decisions within this surreal world. So this is what it felt like, to become conscious within a dream. He'd read about lucid dreaming, but he'd never experienced it first hand himself before, nor had he ever had much of an interest in learning how to do it. This was a whole new realm for him, uncharted grounds. Caught up in a momentary ambedo he looked down at his hands, slowly closing them and then opening them back up, taking note of every small detail. It was fascinating, how incredibly vivid everything was. He would have never thought that his mind could generate something which appeared so realistic. It amazed him. It scared him. Both a wonderful and terrifying prospect at the same time. He looked back up at the figure which resembled his former mentor and gazed at him in wonder. "If this is all just a dream, then you're not really here."

'Gideon' gave a single nod, confirming his suspicions. "Of course not. I'm just an illusion. A figment conjured up by your subconscious. Just like everything else." He acknowledged, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Reid found it especially interesting that the figure before him, this phantom Gideon, seemed to fit the character of the real Gideon so perfectly. It was scarily convincing, the sort of thing that made him doubt what was real and what was not. Was this what it felt like to hallucinate? What his mom felt like whenever she-

No. He shook his head, trying to discard the line of thought. No need to go into that right now. There were more pressing matters to deal with. For one, he still had a lot of unanswered questions. Phantom Gideon gestured for him to sit, and so he did, making himself comfortable in the previously vacant wooden chair in the middle of the barn. He looked down at the chess board that stood between them. The game appeared already part way in, with pieces spread across the board, but nothing having been taken just yet.

"What am _I_ doing here?" He asked, staring at the black and white pieces on the board which all appeared to be actual living warriors, all anxiously awaiting the continuation of their battle. He could now understand why everything else in this world existed, it was a dream after all and in dreams anything and everything makes just about the same amount of sense. But that still didn't explain why he was here. Right now, he seemed to be the odd one out.

"See, now you're asking the right question." Phantom Gideon approved with a smile. Spencer looked up at him once more. For a moment he wondered why exactly he had subconsciously chosen Gideon to be the one to show up and begin explaining things to him. Not that he didn't appreciate his guidance, but as mentioned before, the man's sudden departure was still somewhat of a fresh scar to his emotional well being. Eventually he settled on the conclusion that it was probably due to Gideon being the first real father figure he ever had. Honestly, he was a bit grateful that his subconscious had chosen Gideon over his biological father. Now that was a confrontation he wasn't planning on having anytime soon.

Growing annoyed with the thoughts of deadbeat dads he quickly decided to instead turn his attention back to figuring out for himself what exactly was going on. Vague memories of pain and confusion surfaced, giving him hints to possible answers without actually telling him anything at all. Still, he could feel his heart sink in his chest. He may not have know what specifically was going on, but he had the sense that, whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"I'm in a really bad shape, aren't I?" He spoke softly, dreading the possibility and yet somehow knowing that it was the case. Perhaps it was something he had noticed earlier and just couldn't quite place now, or something he had picked up on subconsciously which created a gut feeling of sorts, despite the fact that he had no way of actually feeling his real gut at the time being. But whatever it was, it caused him to already know the answer even before phantom Gideon replied.

"Unfortunately, yes." The phantom confirmed, as predicted. Then again, what else could he possibly have expected. Their minds were literally one and the same, Reid quietly scolded himself for forgetting about this little fact. Regardless, there was still something wrong.

"Come on Spencer, you need to be a bit more specific." Phantom Gideon pushed, seemingly displeased with Reid's thought process.

"But I-I don't know what's wrong." Reid stammered, honestly not knowing where to even begin. Of course he needed to be more specific. A simple 'something's wrong' wasn't going to cut it if he actually wanted to get to the bottom of why he was in this state. He'll have to figure out the details. That, however, proved to be easier said than done.

"Of course you do. You noticed the signs before, didn't you?" Phantom Gideon continued to urge him on. Of course, 'Gideon' probably had access to his subconscious information, something which Reid himself couldn't quite get to. This made it seem somewhat unfair, the idea of phantom Gideon knowing things which he didn't despite the fact that they literally shared a mind. "Think, what's the last thing you remember? How did you lose consciousness?"

Reid's brow furrowed with concentration as he scanned his recent memories as best he could. That's when he noticed another worrying factor. There seemed to be gaps in his memories, spaces where he knew something was supposed to be, but which were now blank and empty. This, for someone who was used to remembering practically everything, was unsettling indeed. And the memories which were present appeared slowly and much more dim to what he was used to. Still, he pushed forward, determined to solve this problem regardless of how sluggish his mind may have been.

The things which he could remember were quite literally a jumbled up mess. It was as if someone had dropped the contents of a thousand piece puzzle right into his lap, with at least ten percent of the pieces being missing and the rest being completely disorganized. From the snippets of memory he managed to salvage he could vaguely recall the taste of blood, blinding lights and a few others. There were two specific things which stood out though, those being a peculiar high pitched ring and the sudden feeling of impending danger. He could remember the little red flag going up in his mind. He had recognized these warning signs before, having simply been unable to identify them in his previous, fuzzy state of mind.

"An aura." He spoke quietly and with realization, the dots finally connecting themselves. "I had a seizure."

"That's right." Phantom Gideon confirmed with a nod, patiently waiting for him to continue. "What does that tell you?"

"I'm not sure." He admitted honestly. A seizure could mean many things, it wasn't exactly linked to any one health problem in particular. Head injury, drug overdose, poisoning, lack of oxygen in the brain, certain illnesses, tumors… any of which could theoretically be a cause. Though admittedly some were much less likely than others. Standing alone it wasn't exactly useful to tell what was going on, though it did at least help explain why his recent memory was so messed up.

"What were your other symptoms?" Phantom Gideon voiced this thoughts for him, one step ahead yet again. It was a good motivator though, and a relatively decent way of keeping his mind on track, despite it being strange having someone else constantly say out loud what you're thinking.

Again Spencer raked his mind in search for the answer, only to end up with yet another pile of incomprehensible nonsense. It was hopeless. Everything from the last few days was so mixed up that someone may as well have thrown it all into a blender. It was utterly useless, which annoyed him to no end. Is this what it felt like to have a normal memory? If it was he would genuinely feel sorry for anyone who had to deal with this on a daily basis. Not only was it the most frustrating thing in the world to be unable to recall the simplest of details, but it also indicated that whatever was affecting him was making an impact on his cognitive ability. A negative one by the looks of it, and that was a very terrifying possibility.

"I don't know, I can't- I can't remember." He admitted quietly, sinking back into his chair and wishing he could just wake up. Though try as he might, the dream world simply wouldn't dissolve around him. He was stuck, for now, with no way of getting back to the others until his body recovered enough from whatever was causing it damage. Trapped in a dream. For some reason the thought was so discouraging. "I had a headache." He noted, his voice soft with disappointment in his inability to remember much else.

"Fever, chills, nausea, fatigue." Phantom Gideon listed, apparently finally deciding to tap into his subconscious resources to give Reid something to work with. Reid wondered if it was possible for phantom Gideon to grow impatient with him, considering he was only a figment of his imagination. Ridiculous as it may sound, he felt as though he was disappointing his former mentor, regardless of how unreal he may have been. He was supposed to be a genius for crying out loud, and yet here he was! Half conscious, stuck inside his own head and unable to think of even four basic symptoms, the presence or absence of which could quite literally be the indicators of the difference between life and death. Damn it he hated this. He hated the uncertainty. He hated the confusion and the fear, the fact that his mind was practically useless.

Sinking even further back into his chair he breathed in a great lungful of air and released a heavy sigh. What did it even matter? Even if he figured out what was wrong, of what use would it be? It wasn't like he would be able tell anyone. Something told him that he wasn't going to be in a decently conscious state anytime soon, and telepathy wasn't exactly a skill he possessed either, so he had absolutely no way of communicating with the team. The team. Reid wondered how they were doing.

"It's hard to think when you're mind's under attack, isn't it." Reid stared at the chess pieces as he let the words from his subconscious sink in. He flinched in surprize as another loud explosion of thunder shook the entirety of the dream world, the rain which pounded on the barn roof having only grown more fierce since earlier. As the wind continued to howl mournfully outside he wondered whether this small, fragile barn would be capable of lasting through the storm. How long will it be before the walls were blown over? How much time? He couldn't keep all the worst case scenarios from making their way through his thoughts. What if this was it? What if this was how he died? Alone, caught in a fictional cobweb conjured up by his own mind. What if he never got to say goodbye to the team? How long would they miss him? What if he never got to see his mother again? What if… always 'what if?'

"Am I going to make it out?" His voice was broken, disheartened. There was nothing he could really do about this. He was completely powerless to change anything. Once again he's become nothing more than a liability. He couldn't help the team, heck he couldn't even help himself. Useless.

"Well, that depends." Gideon spoke quietly, gently, no doubt recognizing his other self's discouragement.

"On what?" Reid questioned halfheartedly, slightly curious about the answer and yet not really expecting it to be overly uplifting at all.

"On whether you're going to give up or not."

~ 0o, 000 ~ 000, 0o, o ~ 0o0o, o0, 0o ~ ooo, o, o ~ 0o00, 000, oo0, o0o ~ 0, o, o0, o0o, ooo ~

The hospital waiting room area was excruciatingly quiet. Aside from the occasional bustle of nurses or other medical personnel, there was little to no human sound to be heard. Though the silence attempted to shatter itself with the usual hospital ambience, it didn't quite have the same life to it. There was no one else in the waiting room aside from himself, and Hotch could have sworn that if he had to listen to the slow ticking of the wall clock for much longer he was going to lose it.

It's been hours now. The day had come and gone and he still had no idea as to what exactly was going on. He hasn't yet heard so much as a word from anybody here since he was separated from the team's youngest back when they had first arrived. It worried him. A lot. They wouldn't have been busy this long if it was anything simple. It wouldn't have taken this much time to finish tests, would it? It certainly didn't help much that he had absolutely no idea what to expect.

Being stuck here with nothing but his own thoughts to accompany him wasn't doing him much good. It only allowed more opportunity for dreaded scenarios and guilt to filter their way into his head. More than once he found himself dwelling on the idea that he could have prevented this. There was no reason why things had to progress to this level. There were so many things he could have done differently, so many things he should have picked up on earlier, that the idea of him allowing this to happen was an utter disgrace. The smallest bit of logic inside of him tried to remind him that he shouldn't be blaming himself, that in all honesty this was out of his control. It's fascinating how easily logic can be drowned out by emotion.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Running a tired hand down his face he looked up at the ever ticking clock and wondered for the umpteenth time that day whether or not he should risk leaving, even for a short while, to go back to the hotel and freshen up. He couldn't believe he was still dressed in his sleep wear. Well, half of his sleepwear if you considered that the clean shirt he had to change into after the whole nosebleed incident wasn't technically part of his usual bedtime outfit. Regardless, it still felt awkward to be dressed so informally in public. Despite this, he didn't ever really dare to wander off too far, worried that if he did he might miss Reid's doctors when they finally decided to come fill him in on what the hell was going on. And so he stayed, allowing his cycle of thoughts to continue.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Hotch." Turning his head in the direction of his name he was greeted with the oh so welcome sight of the rest of the team hastily making their way into the waiting room and towards him. In the back of his mind he noted that they had come off work early, but that wasn't really a concern at the time as he quickly stood up, indescribably grateful to finally have familiar people around to talk to.

"How is he?" Jay-Jay anxiously asked as they approached. Gathering around the five profilers formed a circular group, all burning with similar questions and concerns. The day had been a long one, far longer than they would have liked, and now that they finally had a chance to all be together and talk things through they wanted answers as soon as possible.

"I don't know. I haven't heard anything from them yet." Hotch admitted disappointedly. It still worried him that the doctors haven't gotten back to them yet. The only thing he did know was that, last time he saw him, Reid was being taken to the ER to be assessed. That, of course, had been several hours ago. He remembered them briefly mentioning something about the ICU, but other than that information was scarce. Watching as their expressions fell he sighed internally. He really didn't want to worry them anymore than they already were. "Anything happen with the case?"

"Not really, things have been quiet for the most part. We did get the tox report back. She was killed with an overdose of Fentanyl, just like the others." Emily answered, glad that the killer seemed to have taken a break for the time being. No new bodies have turned up over the past two days, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. Good because of course nobody wanted anyone else to die, but bad because not only did the lack of new evidence make their jobs all the more tricky, but they were also pretty sure that the unsub was going to strike again eventually. His profile thus far suggested that he wasn't the type to stop, so for now it was only a question of time.

"Hotch, man, you look terrible." Morgan mentioned with a light, half hearted chuckle as he analyzed the team leader from head to toe. The man has certainly seen better days. Morgan didn't think any of them had ever seen Hotch with such an untidy appearance. Despite the situation, the unusualness of it all was just funny enough to lighten the mood ever so slightly.

"I'm sure I do." Hotch agreed with a slight smile, the best he could manage. He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at his shirt in a futile attempt to straighten up a bit. He wouldn't have been surprised if this lead to a month's worth of falling victim to Morgan's jokes. He made a mental note to remind the younger agent who's in charge should that be the case.

"Spencer Reid." Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of a dark haired man in a white coat. Hearing the name of their ill friend they all quickly gathered around the newcomer. The young man raised a quizzical eyebrow as he studied the odd collection of approaching people. He had been informed of the patient's job and was well aware that his visitors would mostly consist of coworkers and not direct family, but for him it was still strange to see such a variant mix of people. Honestly he hadn't expected so many people to turn up at all. Still, it wasn't his place to question. Right now all he had to focus on doing his job and doing it well.

"I'm Cameron." He introduced himself with a kind smile, holding out a hand to shake with the profilers. Though the wireframe glasses which sat perched securely on the bridge of his nose and the clipboard he held with his left arm made him appear somewhat booksmart and professional, the rest of his appearance painted quite a different picture. His layered T-shirts and spiked, messy hair reflected his youth and inexperience. Not a doctor, they noted, as if he was he would have mentioned the title. Probably a nurse, Rossi figured as he took his turn to shake the young man's hand. "Sorry it took so long to get back to you. We've been very busy since your friend arrived. I'm guessing you're all very eager to know how he's doing."

As the team agreed Cameron closely analyzed their expressions. They all appeared so anxious to hear what he had to say. Of course they would be, they had been left in the dark practically all day. Actually seeing their faces now made him doubt whether or not he was up for the task he had been assigned. This would be his first time explaining the situation to the family, or in this case the team, of a patient and he wasn't entirely sure what to expect. He had the feeling that his supervisor had given him the task as a way to either test him or to prove a point, of which he wasn't sure. Either way, he was going to have to get used to it if he ever wanted to advance in the field. So, with five pairs of expecting eyes on him he took a deep breath.

"Right now he's in intensive care." He began to explain things as simply as he could, regularly checking the papers on his clipboard to make sure the information he gave them was accurate. "His condition is fragile, at this point it's touch and go, so we'll be keeping a very close eye on him. He's still unresponsive and we fear that he's fallen into a light coma, though we probably would've had to medically sedate him anyway if that wasn't the case. Especially considering it's noted here that you mentioned the refusal of any narcotics, is that correct?"

Tick. Tick. tick.

Hotch nodded. He mentioned that back when they were first questioned at the hotel. He could remember Rossi giving him a slight questioning look when he did. Having joined after the whole ordeal, Hotch didn't think he was aware of Reid's past experience with addiction. No one ever really wanted to talk it, for obvious reasons. When he thought about it, it truly made the situation sound all the more terrible. How much pain would someone have to be in for them to require sedation if they couldn't take pain medication?

"Wha- Well do you know what's wrong with him?" Emily was finally the one to ask the question which has been concerning everyone for the entirety of the day. They all wanted, no needed, an explanation for what was going on. They looked to Cameron with questioning eyes, burning with the desire to finally know what was happening to the team's youngest.

Cameron shifted uncomfortably under their collective gaze, slightly nervous and unsure of exactly how he was supposed to handle this. It would have helped if Doctor Keller had at least joined him as back up, so to speak. But instead she had tossed him into the deep end. This one was probably going involve a lot of questions and even more explaining. "We can't be certain until the test results come back, but judging by his symptoms we suspect the most probable cause to be bacterial meningitis."

"Meningitis?" Hotch was stunned. Truly they all were. Out of all the possible conclusions that have crossed their minds throughout the day this had not been one of them. It just wasn't really something people considered, especially when taking into account that it's not exactly commonly heard of. Hotch vaguely remembered learning about it with Haley at parenting classes back when she was still pregnant with Jack. 'An inflammation of the meninges', that's how it had been described to them. He never expected it to turn up in their lives, especially not like this.

"I thought that only affected children." Morgan pointed out with a disbelieving frown. Despite the playful nicknames and though a kid Reid may have been when compared to the rest of the team, he was still far from literally being a child anymore. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Morgan might have found it funny that the team's resident genius had somehow managed to catch a children's bug. Right now, however, it only created more questions.

"Oh, yes that's a common misunderstanding." Cameron quickly corrected, glad that so far all the questions he had been faced with were ones he knew the answers to. "Though children and the elderly are more likely to develop meningitis, people of any age could potentially be affected by it. Infections caused by S. pneumoniae or N. meningitidis are the most common non viral forms of meningitis in young adults. Another common misconception is how contagious it is. Unlike viral meningitis, bacterial meningitis isn't extremely contagious, so there's no need for him to be isolated. However, just to be safe, we'd still ask anyone who's had prolonged contact with him to take preventive antibiotics. Just make sure to get those before you leave."

Tick. Tick. tick…

"As per standard procedure we've taken some blood cultures. We've also started IV therapy to help get his blood pressure up and anticonvulsants to prevent further seizures. We did a C.T. scan earlier to check for swelling and performed a spinal tap once Dr. Keller deemed it safe. Unfortunately we can't give him specific treatment right now as we won't know the exact cause until the test results come back, which could take a few days. In the meantime we're starting him on a range of antibiotics - vancomycin, cefotaxime and moxifloxacin - along with dexamethasone, which won't be as effective, but should still allow his condition to improve. You should know that his organs had suffered some damage from sepsis. Basically, his immune system had an adverse reaction to the infection, causing it to damage his own body. Luckily it doesn't look like much harm was done, and so far it seems that only his lungs have been affected, resulting in mild ARDS. We've put him on a mechanical ventilator for now to assist his breathing."

Tick. tick… tick…

With every sentence Cameron spoke the situation sounded increasingly bleak and intimidating. Talk about seizures and organ damage progressively made it appear all the more daunting. Rossi didn't want to think of the young genius in such a fragile and damaged state. The kid didn't deserve it, any of it. This made him wonder. He honestly didn't want to ask, fearful that the answer may be far from a positive one, but they were going to have to find out eventually. "What are his chances?"

Cameron swallowed nervously. He really wasn't looking forward to this next part. In fact he has subconsciously been trying to stall getting to this point for as long as possible. Unfortunately, there was no way point in trying to avoid the inevitable. "I'm sorry, but…honestly, it doesn't look good. Mortality rate can reach up to twenty percent in the early stages, and his condition was already sever by the time he was brought in. The odds are against him. Hopefully his condition will start improving soon. If the treatment works, and we're lucky, physically he might be back to normal in a few weeks."

Tick...tick…

By the time the young nurse had finally stopped talking it felt as though the entirety of earth had been tipped upside down and was now spinning in reverse. The shadow of a situation was steadily grown, bigger and bigger until it had turned into a deep, dark monster of a nightmare which now dwelled their waking lives. Hotch found himself repeating some of the words in his head. ' _...twenty percent in the early stages...already severe...'_ The guilt from before came rushing back. It _was_ his fault. There was no way he could convince himself to believe anything different now. He, regardless of whether he was aware of it or not, had played an important hand in it all. If he had just insisted on taking Reid here when he first became ill then they would have been six hours ahead of the worst. Six hours which, as it turns out, could have made all the difference.

"Physically?" Jay-Jay questioned, having easily noted the specific use of the word. She swallowed, hearing the tiniest tone of her voice breaking and feeling an all too familiar lump form in her throat. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear anything else, whether she wanted to be told the specifics. But the need to know was greater than the pain of the knowledge.

"That's the other thing about meningitis." Cameron hesitated, awkwardly adjusting his glasses before taking another deep breath and releasing it in a sigh, forcing himself to see this through. "You see, it puts a lot of pressure on a patient's brain. This could potentially cause long term, even permanent damage. Because of the severity of his condition, he has a higher chance of an adverse outcome. Some of the... 'complications' may include partial or complete loss of hearing or sight, temporary or long term paralysis, difficulty learning, lowered cognitive ability, memory problems, personality changes, recurring migraines, seizures…"

tick…

"Oh my-" Jay-Jay clasped a hand over her mouth, cutting herself off mid sentence. Her eyes have began to sting and she could feel her breaths growing ever more shaky. She couldn't take this. This was quickly becoming too much for her to handle. She wanted to cry, and yet at the same time she desperately wanted to keep up her composure. It made her feel sick. She deeply appreciated when Emily wrapped an arm around her shoulders, her support being one of the few things keeping her from breaking down. She couldn't believe this. None of them could. None of them wanted to accept any of the words Cameron had spoken since the moment he had introduced himself.

"Right now, we can't know anything for sure. The best we can do is keep a close eye on him, and pray the antibiotics do their job. We won't be able to determine the outcome until he becomes responsive again. Realistically speaking, you should prepare for the worst. There's.. There's a chance he might not make it through the night. I'm sorry, really I am. I would suggest you consider calling loved ones… letting them know of the situation."

…

Silence. In that moment everything stopped. Five hearts collectively froze as the information slowly carved its way into their minds, turning their thoughts into landscapes of icy tundra. Empty, forlorn, cold. Shock kept the majority of their emotions at bay for the first few seconds, followed instantly by the intense wave of feelings that crashed over each and every one of them as the full implication of what they have been told was finally registered. ' _...might not make it through the night…'_ The words echoed around in their heads, chipping away further and further each time they repeated. It couldn't be. How? Why? It wasn't fair.

How the hell could this be fair!?

Jay-Jay broke. She couldn't take it anymore. All the pressure of fear and concern which had built up throughout the day suddenly came crashing back down on her in full force and she couldn't stop tears from escaping her eyes. She only just managed to swallow down her sobs as Emily knowingly pulled her into what she hoped to be a comforting embrace.

Emily decided to distract herself with being Jay-Jay's support. She had never really been the kind of person to openly express emotion. Rather she preferred to keep most of it locked down, at least until she could deal with it on her own terms. So that's exactly what she did. She forced it down and kept her mind occupied with something else as much as she possibly could. In this case, she focused her attention on her emotionally drained friend.

Rossi felt like an outsider, looking in on the scene unfolding around him. He didn't think that he could consider himself close enough to the team to truly appreciate the implications of this newly received knowledge. It's not that he didn't care, or that he didn't feel anything. He still hurt. He still felt worried, more so than he had in a considerable amount of time. It's just that he didn't think that he had yet developed the team bond required to validate any form of exterior reaction. So he kept himself composed, as best as he could anyway.

Morgan found himself feeling suddenly stuck. Empty. Not worried, not sad, not angry. Nothing. Like his entire being had been wiped away leaving only pause. He knew this could likely be contributed to lingering shock, his mind unable to determine what would be the best emotion to produce. In a while he'll no doubt be fighting off the urge to punch a crater in something, or someone, but for now he just felt emptiness.

Hotch didn't know what to do. For once in his life he had absolutely no idea how to go on from this point forward. Should he try to be optimistic, handle things as if everything was going to be just fine? Should he try to just let things go on as they normally would have? Or should he allow the more realistic conclusion to take its course? Accept that they may very well have lost a team member come morning? Not only that, but what about Reid's family? As far as he understood, the only close relationship Reid had outside of the current team was with his mother. Considering that Diana was in a psychiatric hospital he wasn't sure that telling her about the potential loss of her only son was a good idea. He'll still have to at least inform her doctors none the less. This all made him feel like he was somehow already accepting the worst case scenario, something which he didn't really even want to begin thinking about.

"Can we see him?" Rossi was the first to break the century's worth of silence, looking to find even the smallest glimmer of light in this bleak situation. He wasn't planning on losing hope. The kid's a fighter. That's what he told himself over and over, and is probably what he'll have to remind the others of later, when the situation is more fitting. Besides, he still had a promise to keep to the the young doctor, so he wasn't going just to leave him here alone.

"Having a lot of visitors around probably isn't the best idea right now." Cameron hesitantly pointed out. He had been quietly observing the faces of this small group of people, watching their expressions change with every bit of bad news he had presented them with. It was painful. It was haunting. He really didn't want to add anything more to their already burdened emotional state. So he sighed, deciding that he wasn't going to be the one to send them all away. Not tonight. "Though, I'm sure Dr. Keller wouldn't mind if one of you stayed."

"I'll stay." Morgan instantly spoke up, barely allowing the nurse to even finish his sentence. Everybody turned their heads to look at him, the determination in his voice practically demanding to be listened to. He acknowledged that it may have appeared selfish to claim the only available visiting opportunity, but at the moment he didn't care. He had had enough. Come hell or high water, he was going to see his friend tonight.

"You sure." Hotch checked even though he already knew the answer. Morgan's expression was more than enough of a confirmation. Noting that there was no way he was backing down, and understandably so, Hotch gave a single nod in understanding. "Alright. Everybody else, we should go back to the hotel. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

It broke his heart to say that. To even consider sending them away after what they had just learned. But he had no choice. They still had a case, they were still expected to be back at the station first thing in the morning, and that wasn't something he could just ignore. It was times like this that he hated the job, hated the responsibility that came with it. Deep down he knew that it wouldn't make much of a difference. Chances were none of them would be getting a wink's worth of sleep that night anyway. But he was still their supervisor, and as a supervisor it was his duty to tell them to get rest, no matter how hard that may be.

With that being said the team all very reluctantly began to excuse themselves. None of them really wanted to leave, none of them were looking forward to what would no doubt be one of the longest nights of their life, yet they all understood why it had to be that way. As they all steadily turned to leave, Jay-Jay took a moment to throw her arms around Morgan and give him as tight a hug as she possibly could, which he appreciatively returned. It was as if the gesture itself spoke the words which were otherwise left unsaid. The nonverbal " _take care of him"_ was more than clear enough to understand. After a few seconds they parted and Jay-Jay hesitantly followed the others out of the waiting room, leaving only Morgan and Cameron.

"The, um, the ICU is this way." Cameron half pointed with his right hand as he started leading the way out of the waiting room and through the maze of hallways beyond, with Morgan following closely behind. They walked in silence, Morgan too caught up in his thoughts to start a conversation, and the young nurse feeling like too much of an intruding stranger to do so himself. He really hated having to be the bearer of bad news for this makeshift family, something told him that he'll have to talk this out with his supervisor later on. It didn't take them long to get to the room Reid was placed in. Once there Cameron allowed Morgan to step inside and only waited a few seconds to check that everything was in place before quickly excusing himself, not wanting to intrude on the personal time between patients and visitors.

Morgan, however, didn't even notice the nurse leaving. He was far too preoccupied with trying to mentally process the entirety of the scene before him. At least half of the room was a web of wires and tubes of all different shapes and sizes. Large and complicated machines on either side, making _wirrr_ sounds at various different frequencies as they ran, each with their own unique function. And in the middle of it all was Reid, quiet and practically motionless where he lay in the hospital bed. The only times Morgan could visibly see him move was when his chest steadily rose and fell as the mechanical ventilator did its job. Morgan was dumbfounded, moving in a haze as he neared the side of the bed. Looking down at his friend's frail figure he could barely believe what he was seeing. It felt so unreal, like some twisted nightmare that just refused to be woken up from. Absentmindedly he pulled up a nearby chair and sat down at the side of the bed.

It took a while for him to return to his usual senses, the rhythmic ' _beep...beep...beep'_ of a heart monitor eventually pulling him out of his dazed state. He looked up at its black screen, watching the thin green line jump up and down with each consecutive ' _beep'_ as well as taking note that the rhythm of the pulse was slightly faster than usual. He stared at it, dreading the idea that every time it pulsed could potentially be the last time that it did so. Hating the fact that, should it ever stop, that would be the end. Every time it quieted down, even if just for the pauses in between the ' _beep'_ s he silently willed it to keep going. Begged it to never, ever stop.

Looking back down at Reid he found that his soul had been drenched in a near overwhelming sadness. Not only because of the possibility of losing his friend, his brother, but also because of the very fact that this was happening to him. It hurt to see him like this. It hurt more than he thought anything ever could. He wished he he could do something about this, anything. But neither he nor the others had any control over this, and that was probably what hurt worst of all. Being utterly, completely unable to help your family when they needed you most.

"Hey there pretty boy." He greeted softly. Despite being fully aware that Spencer was unconscious and had no way of seeing his expression, Morgan still tried to feign a smile to the best of his ability. He didn't know if it was possible for Reid to hear his voice in his current condition, but he liked to believe that he could. Even if that wasn't the case, just talking couldn't really hurt. He needed to talk, needed to believe that it would somehow make a difference. Gently he reached out and brushed a few stray brown locks of hair out of Reid's face. It startled him how warm his skin was to the touch.

"You're giving us all a real scare, you know that right?" He questioned with a small, joyless chuckle, more to go along with the facade of a smile than anything else. Careful as to not displace any of the medical tubes, Morgan took one of Spencer's hands in his own. He was surprised to find that, despite the previously established fever, his hand as actually rather cold. He couldn't help but think that if Reid was awake he would have probably been able to explain exactly why that was, in unnecessarily great detail. He missed that. Though he never would have thought it possible, he already missed hearing the young doctor ramble excitedly on and on. It was something he liked to tease him about, something he had taken for granted. Now it was something he feared he may never get to hear again. It was almost funny, how something so seemingly insignificant could suddenly mean so much more. How you never really appreciate what you have until life threatens to take it away from you.

"You listen to me." His voice changed slightly as he allowed some of the forced positivity to give way to a more serious tone. It wasn't overly strict, nor did it have the naivety of pure optimism. A rather odd mixture of determination and near desperation. Simultaneous hope and dread. A shade of sorrow which did not have a word of its own. He took a deep breath, ignoring the slight tremors he felt as he did so. Releasing it slowly he focused on keeping his emotions reined in. "You hold on in there, alright. We need you back here. We all do. I'm not planning on losing a friend. Not today, and not any day soon. So don't you dare give up on us, you hear me?"

"Don't you dare." There was no response. Of course not, he hadn't expected there to be one. His little brother remained still and silent, not a single muscle twitching to indicate he has heard even a single word Morgan has said. But his chest kept rising and falling along with the function of the large mechanical lung and the monitor kept beeping, rhythmic and constant. And right now, for Morgan, that was enough.

~ 0o, 000 ~ 000, 0o, o ~ 0o0o, o0, 0o ~ ooo, o, o ~ 0o00, 000, oo0 ~ 0o0o, o0o, 0o00 ~

 **The following is another overly long author's note:**

 **Wow, this chapter turned out to be way longer than I expected it to be. I may have gotten a little carried away there. Maybe it's because I was a bit more inspired or because I had the required excess emotions to write this one.**

 **To anyone who's been affected by meningitis, either directly or indirectly, I really hope things are looking up for you and your loved one/s. May all the best wishes go out to you.**

 **I guess a bit of an explanation should be added. It is a rather odd illness to choose I suppose. For those who don't know, meningitis occurs when the normally sterile cerebral fluid around the brain gets infected. If you want to know more I would really suggest looking it up. I chose bacterial meningitis for a few simple reasons.**

 **1 It fit's the symptoms and progression. Though I specifically chose some of the later symptoms to fit with this, a lot of the earlier ones were chosen at random for dramatic effect (considering this was originally a oneshot).**

 **2 It is very unpredictable. Symptoms, progression and outcome may vary drastically from one person to the next. I took to reading some real stories from meningitis survivors to get an idea of how it works. As it turns out some people may progress very slowly and have few symptoms, yet have severe long lasting after effects, whilst others have reported coming to the brink of death only to make a wonderful recovery. Every case is different, which allows for much more creative freedom.**

 **3 It'll be useful to explain some future developments (you'll probably see in later chapters *wink*)**

 **So yeah. Again I admit that I am not an expert with these things and scientific errors are likely if not inevitable. I can only try my best. Sorry for leaving you all on a bit of a cliff hanger. Guess this is where the suSPENCE comes in (sorry I had to point out that pun). Hope the chapter wasn't too bad.**

 **As always, thank you all for the wonderful support. Every review or follower/favorite notification sparks a bit of happiness in my little blue soul. You are the people who really made this story grow in the first place, and I thank you all for that.**

 **Have a good day/night. Munchkin out. *poof***


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